Crowning a Steward
by Adanwen
Summary: Pippin ponders over kings, stewards, and crowns on the day of Aragorn's coronation. Warning: contains a lot of bromance.:3


My entry for The Unexpected Contest at Author's-Club over at dA and my first Lord of the Rings fanfiction in 9 years!*gasp*

I've always loved the bonding between the hobbits and some of the "big folk".3 The second character is supposed to come as a surprise, but that's sort of impossible to achieve with the mandatory tagging.-_- But yeah, tell me how you like that effect anyway, please.:)

It all started out as what I like to call description porn.:P I'm madly in love with the costumes of the movies and those gondorian armours are so beautiful! I want one. Anyways, I love love love to describe, so this was great fun. I really am a visual artist to the core.3

Oh, and my description of the clothes is based on Faramir's costume during the coronation. I noticed that there's a tiara on pictures of the costume, while we see none being worn in the movie, thus inspiration hit me.:)

While writing I've been listening mainly to the wonderful song "Undómiel's grace" and "The return of the king" from the Lotr Rotk soundtrack.

Well, I hope you enjoy it!

**Crowning a Steward**

Pippin stared at the tree ornament on the shining, brightly polished armour. There were little blossoms engraved into the steel at the tips of the branches, which had appeared like a bit too much embellishment of the old, gnarly tree growing in the courtyard, to Pippin when he had first arrived in the White City. But now the ring had been destroyed, the old tree bore blossoms again, and (most important) there were regular meals again, that didn't feel as if the end of the world were near.

And today – Pippin had almost forgotten what it was like- even the sun was shining again. A perfect day for the return of the king.

He traced the outline of the silver branches with his finger and thought back to the beginning of their journey. How little had they known what would be in store for them. And yet, he didn't regret coming on this adventure. Being part of the fellowship.

Still tapping against the metal absent-mindedly, his gaze fell onto the fine garments, lying neatly folded on top of a chair. There was white velvet, embroidered with golden stars. There was clean-washed linen, almost glowing in the light of day. There was a heavy cloak, lavishly decorated, that looked fit for a king.

His thoughts seemed to be bound to return to that word. Not that he didn't think Aragorn would make the best king in all of Middle Earth, but the greatest part of him would always see him as Strider, the lone ranger.

Pippin's interest was caught by something glittering in the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw a silver tiara, propped over the bed post like a hoop. Maybe it was more of a crown though. He couldn't really decide, so he dubbed it "criara". It looked quite different from the diadems he had seen the elves wear – there were no leaves or playfully entwined branches, just a stylized tree on the forefront and something that could be interpreted as wings edging away from it, all over the rest of the head-dress.

Looking down at his dark green vest and simple brown trousers was quite a different sight. But then again he was a hobbit and much rather preferred simple clothing to such luxury. It was hard for him to tell if the garments in front of him were just rich or majestically rich.

_Oh bother, there it is again._

Memories of the days back in Rivendell came back and the endless wandering over open plains. Daydreaming had been one of his favourite past times back then in order to stay sane (apart from annoying the rest of the fellowship with his endless talk), but not in the wildest of those had he imagined the ending their story would take. He looked up towards the dazzlingly high ceiling that was painted with a golden sun, a thin moon crescent and countless stars. Never had he thought that he would stand in halls of stone and on floors of marble.

The sword leaning against the side of the chair with the clothes, reminded him of darker days. It was longer than he was tall and he still wondered how anyone in their right mind could carry around such a thing without chopping off their feet (his hairy toes curled in horror).

Hadn't he been so lost in thought, Pippin would have heard the noise that the big folk usually made when walking, long before the door opened.

"I was going to propose we'd change together, but I find you already dressed fully and at your finest," a warm, dark voice addressed him.

Turning around, Pippin simply smiled lobsided and heaved himself up to sit on the edge of the ridiculously large bed.

"I see you've been inspecting my ceremonial garments. What do you think of them, master hobbit?"

Pippin took a deep breath and decided to just ask him right away. He had thought about leaving it till later, as not to spoil the feast, but now he felt like the sooner he'd get rid of this burdening thought, the better.

"I think they're amazing, but then I'm only a hobbit. What do _you_ think of them?"

The man frowned at him in confusion.

"Why, do you think I might not be satisfied with them?"

Pippin shifted uncomfortably from side to side.

"I don't know...I can't help but wonder if you're not still angry at Aragorn for becoming king after all."

There. He had said it. Only it had sounded much sillier out loud than in his head. Maybe that was why Boromir was chuckling softly now.

"You think I'd rather wear his crown on my head?" He asked with a pretty bad attempt at a poker-face.

"Uh," Pippin stammered. He dangled his legs in embarrassment.

"I just thought, being the steward's son and all...you said that Gondor needed no king!"

The last part was spoken in utter despair of not knowing what else to say.

Boromir winced slightly at having his own words thrown back at him, but he sat down next to Pippin with a smile.

"So I did. But that was before I knew what kind of man Aragorn was. That was before I fought with him in battle, before he saved my life countless times, before I knew what he sacrificed, and before I saw how he protected his friends. Especially you little folk."

"But Boromir, you protected us hobbits more than anyone!" Pippin protested. Hearing his friend talk like that was something rare and alarmed him a bit.

His loud laughter came with a twinkle of pride in his eyes though, and Pippin was satisfied.

"I'm just trying to say that no one would make a better king for Gondor than Aragorn. And I never wanted the throne, little one."

His grin grew even broader when he saw how the hobbit tried to look grave and doubtful. But then he grew serious all of a sudden and Pippin wondered what had clouded his mind.

"Look. I never told this anyone, not even Faramir. But when I tried to take the ring from Frodo...for a moment I saw myself as king and defeating all foes myself. And then..."

He grimaced a sad smile at the look of shock on Pippin's face.

"Well, then I tripped over a log, fell flat on my face, as I deserved, and realised what I had just done. And then I cried."

Boromir's open-heartedness took Pippin completely by surprise, but he didn't want to interrupt him with any words of sympathy. So he just kept staring at him with his big, green eyes, full of wonder and compassion.

"So, now you know. The only time I ever wanted to be king was when I was blinded by the ring's power. But I see clearly now. I belong to the White City and will protect her and my people for the rest of my days; but I'm glad that I'll do so with Aragorn as my leader. And I'll be proud to be his steward from today onward."

Pippin fought down the urge to clap his hands. Instead he gave Boromir a hobbit-hug and jumped to the ground, saying:

"I think you deserve a coronation as much as the king. Won't there be a ceremony to make you steward officially?"

"There will be, but I won't get crowned," the future steward of Minas Tirith admitted.

"Well! Then we'll have to improvise, I guess!"

Before Boromir could guess though, Pippin had taken up the "criara" from the bed-post and held it aloft with an air of grave responsibility.

"Boromir, son of Denethor, son of...your grandfather!"

Boromir stared, although his eyes couldn't quite reach that roundness of his companion.

"Kneel down before me and receive this...crown to mark you with your sacred duty forever more!"

Not knowing whether he wasn't part of a typical hobbit-prank, Boromir simply decided to go along with it. Truth be told, he was far too confused to do anything than he was told anyway. So he bent down on one knee and bowed his head (partly to hide the constricting muscles that tugged at his lips).

"Now, by the power invested in me...by me (Boromir suddenly had to cough), I, Peregrin Took, crown thee, Boromir, son of Denethor, steward of Gondor. May you rule justly and give good counsel to the king."

Boromir sobered at these words. As much as he rejoiced to see the king return, he still wasn't sure whether he'd be the right man to advise him. Sometimes he thought that Faramir would make a much better steward. He knew for sure though that he would do his best.

"May you be a light to the people of Gondor and inspire them with your faithfulness."

Pippin's graceful words touched him. He never knew hobbits could be so poetic (although he had learned much about them since he first met them – he supposed Gandalf had been right when he had said, that one would never stop being surprised by them.).

He felt the cold metal being placed on his head and waited for Pippin to tell him to rise. The latter hadn't finished quite yet though.

"And may you also find your way to the Shire and enjoy the famed hospitality of the hobbits, who are eternally thankful for your long protection – even though they may not always show it."

Boromir looked up finally, and Pippin could see a single tear glistening in his eye.

"I promise I will try my utmost to fulfil all of these vows. And I promise that I'll come and visit the Shire. Right away after things have settled a bit and I can be sure of no stray orc murdering the king in his sleep."

That last part was delivered with a sly wink and to Pippin's great surprise (after all he was still learning about the ways of men as well) Boromir then gave him a big hug. He seemed to momentarily have forgotten that he was dealing with a hobbit though, because Pippin almost broke down under the weight and was in danger of being suffocated by his huge arms.

He was about to mention this casually, but at that moment Boromir drew back and they grinned sheepishly at each other for some seconds.

"You have to make sure to prepare a bed large enough for me, though."

"Ah, don't worry about that. We'll just move four beds together and let you sleep across them. Maybe five."

They laughed heartily and Boromir rose to put on the rest of his festive garments. The sunlight broke through the opened window and got caught in the tip of the diadem. Pippin had no difficulty whatsoever to imagine him as wise and noble king. He already was, in his eyes.

"Now, master Pippin, we shouldn't let my brother and my soon-to-be sister-in-law wait any longer. Are you ready to crown a king?"

Pippin grinned smugly, clearly communicating that he had already done so as fas as he was concerned.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Boromir."

And they walked out of the sun-flooded room, hand in hand.

Pippin needs reviews for second breakfast!:3


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